


Pants at Potions

by Dane_Wilshire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, HP: EWE, M/M, Sentimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1809211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dane_Wilshire/pseuds/Dane_Wilshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ron have a disjointed conversation after dinner -- where truth (and sentiment) get revealed.<br/>It's fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pants at Potions

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. All mistakes, criticism, and/or approval belong to the dane_wiltshire, who intends no copyright infringement.

Number 17 Woodsedge Lane, Fifehead Milford, North Dorset – as the name suggests – sat on the edge of a small wooded area. It was a comfortable, rambling stone-built cottage with a speckled slate roof. The welcoming and well-tended front garden bloomed from the first hint of spring until the bitterest bite of frost. Off to the right the kitchen garden thrived in the morning and early afternoon sun. The cottage, with its several chimneys and many glistening windows, fronted the quiet lane with a simple wooden fence and gate – freshly painted just before the garden blossomed each year.

The peculiar thing about Number 17 Woodsedge Lane, though, was that it was the only house on the lane. That was no bother to the inhabitants. The Potter-Weasley family considered it a blessing. The tranquillity was a gift. In just a week, the children would return from Hogwarts.

Harry Potter-Weasley sat Indian-style in the big over-stuffed chair next to the open front windows, as he did most evenings, reading The Quibbler with his after-dinner drink to enjoy the breeze that drifted up the hill. Ron Potter-Weasley slumped in the deep chair at the opposite end of the window; his long legs stretched and splayed out before him. His cheek rested on his left fist. His tea had gone cold as he stared absently at the swaying flowers in his garden.

After many minutes of easy stillness, Ron mumbled, “Y’know, that was a potion gone wrong.”

Harry looked up from his newspaper and sullenly adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Ron. The shepherd’s pie was not that bad. So, I was a bit heavy-handed with the pepper. In the fifteen years we’ve been together, even you should admit that I’ve learned something about cooking.”

Ron turned to look at Harry. “Oh, Harry, love – the pie was great. I was just thinking about Lavender.”

“Ron, you’ve planted enough lavender to support the whole British soap industry!”

“Not the plant, you pillock. The girl.”

“Oh,” Harry sighed as he turned his attention back to the paper in his lap.

“S’good thing Hermione turned my interest away from Lavender.”

Harry crumpled the edges of the newspaper in his tightening grip. “Ronald, must we?”

“I’m just saying, Harry, that it’s a good thing Hermione stepped in when she did. I was always pants at potions. At least she helped me figure out you were the missing ingredient in mine.”


End file.
